


Crown

by VespertineSong



Series: Crown and Throne [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Harry Potter, Dark Lord Harry Potter, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Minister for Magic Tom Riddle, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Possessive Tom Riddle, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VespertineSong/pseuds/VespertineSong
Summary: In 1978, the dark was on the brink of victory at the height of Voldemort's reign, when Dumbledore struck him down. The dark lord vanished, never to be heard from again.Nineteen years later a new dark lord rises from the shadows, catching not only the attention of Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, but also intriguing Tom Riddle, a powerful politician with a dark secret past.But who is this new dark lord? And where does Harry Potter, a promising young Ravenclaw seventh year, fit into all of this.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Crown and Throne [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567429
Comments: 62
Kudos: 397





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and I claim no ownership over the series nor am I profiting from the writing of this work of fanfiction.
> 
> Due to the consent laws of the United Kingdom, this is underage due to Tom Riddle being an authority figure in Harry Potter's life, but in the wixen world, at 17 Harry is technically an adult, and therefore the relationship is scandalous, but not illegal.
> 
> That said, in writing, any relationship between one or more people aged below 18 is considered an underage relationship. If a seventeen year old having sex with a seventy-one year old is something that makes you uncomfortable, you should probably turn back before you get invested in the story.
> 
> Thank you for reading and please enjoy. With love and kisses, VespertineSong.

_In the summer of 1960 a dark lord rose to power. He came from the shadows with a grand army called the Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord, whose name shall not be written due to the taboo on his name, led them relentlessly for fifteen long dark years until he was defeated by Albus Dumbledore in the winter of 1975._

_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sent to Azkaban along with many of his followers, but eight months later, on the anniversary of his defeat, he died. Some believe the ministry covered up his escape, but for all the rumors and power the dark lord possessed, he was only a man_.

The door opened and Tom Riddle cursed, startling his secretary as she came in. She sloshed tea down the front of her pale blue blouse with a yelp, and the teacup hit the floor, where it shattered and spilled what little tea was left on the carpet. He scowled as she dropped down to start cleaning it without bothering to reach for her wand.

"Bad news?" She asked. She hissed and stuck her finger in her mouth as she cut her finger on a shard of china.

Wandlessly, Tom repaired the cup and cleaned the mess and the useless girl stood and leaned over his desk to glance at his work. The privacy wards prevented anyone other than him from being able to read anything on his desk, but she pretended to look thoughtful as she leaned even closer.

Tom hated this girl, though despite that he could never remember her name. Shiela or something. She was a muggleborn. She was far too timid and not good at much of anything, yet somehow bold enough to blatantly use her supposed sexual appeal to climb up as high as she had. Tom had sent numerous complaints to HR about her sexual harassment and incompetence but somehow the girl stayed despite all his efforts to get rid of her.

Sheila seemed to view Tom as a personal conquest, a challenge to get the unattainable aloof Tom Riddle to wear down enough to screw, a badge of honor to brag about in the break room with all of the other useless people he worked with. Tom would rather go back to the cell in Azkaban than ever allow her anywhere near him sexually.

"Didn't I fire you?" He snarled coldly, batting her hands away from his tie as she reached out to needlessly straighten it.

She giggled, batting her big blue eyes, and she twirled a lock of light brown curls around her finger in a way that was probably meant to be flirtatious, but instead came off as idiotic. "Oh, you don't really want to fire me, do you Minister?" She purred.

His hand twitched for his wand but Tom only glared at her hatefully. Murdering her would not be worth the repercussions. He spent far too much effort into making his records clean and filling in the gaps to ruin it by killing his stupid secretary on the eve of his victory.

"The election isn't for another six months," He snapped testily, "And once I'm in office you are fired, no matter who you spread your legs for."

Sheila reared back as if he slaped her. Rage twisted up her face but she visibly calmed herself and leaned back over his desk. "I bet I can change your mind."

Tom sighed. "Either leave, or go down to HR for the sexual harassment forms, but you will get out of my office or I will convince Morna that you are in love with him. Again."

Sheila blanched and left his office faster than should have been possible in six inch heels. It was no surprise given her hatred of Morna.

Charles Morna was the utterly useless pervert from filing who, despite his incompetence, seemed to have the same skill of never getting fired despite not being even remotely close to attractive. It was rumored that he knew some scandalous secrets about some powerful people, a rumor that had only grown after he revealed to Rita Skeeter that Fudge, the previous minister, had been keeping a twelve year old muggleborn Korean boy as a slave. Not sexually thankfully, but it was still abhorrent. The scandal had forced Fudge to flee almost two months ago and his workload was split between the three candidates for Minister; Tracey, Bell, and himself.

Minerva Tracey was a muggleborn which pretty much discounted her right off the bat, even if her gender didn't. The dark side wouldn't allow a muggleborn to sit as Minister for any reason, and the light families were adverse to having a female in such a role. It was not traditional. He would have viewed her as a threat regardless, especially with the younger voters, but she was far too idealistic, and her campaign seemed to regard nothing but her desire to abolish the statue of secrecy and other long standing traditions. He admired her moxy, truely, but she was no threat to him.

Daniel Bell was his only real competition. A middle-aged light pureblood from a strong family with ties to Dumbledore, not to mention that he was a bit of a traditionalist. All very good selling points for him. He was friendly too and a family man. However, the man had many skeletons in his closet, such as giving a muggle whore hush money to bribe her to abort several children.

Tom had carefully cultivated a persona for himself back in 1980, with the help of his followers after they broke him out. Neutral and open-minded with fair views on dark magic and creatures. He left the more controversial laws he wanted passed to his openly dark followers to keeo the heat off himself. He filled in the blank spaces with tales of travelling and learning magic to cover up the years he'd been a dark lord before getting a job as an Unspeakable. It took Dumbledore, even with all his spies, twelve years to realize that he was right under his nose and by then it was too late. Unfortunately, other than his progressive views on some touchy subjects that had gotten him reprimanded and the public hatred Dumbledore had for him, Tom had made himself too clean, too perfect, and that had left him seemingly untouchable. Which made him unrelatable, leaving him only a scarce five percent over Bell on the polls.

Tom sighed, rubbing his face with his hand, then turned his attention back to the book on his desk. It was the newest _Hogwarts a History_ textbook, but while it was remarkably updated, it was dry and barely informative. Not to mention that several dates were wrong, including the fact he was defeated in 1978, not 1975. Hogwarts students had been scoring lower and lower on Ministry assigned exams since Dumbledore became headmaster, and this book was just the latest in a long line of idiotic changes the man had made, either to purposefully drive Hogwarts into the ground, or because he was too old and senile to be trusted to run a school.

Until he met his idiot secretary Tom hadn't realized it was possible to hate anyone more than he hated Dumbledore. Sheila had an uncanny ability to bring out his dark lord instincts and bloodlust in a way even Dumbledore, pain in the ass that he was, simply failed to do.

Opening the book, Tom settled back to resume reading, but before he could read even so much as a sentence, there was a knock. Tom snapped the book closed furiously, glaring at the door as if to burn it and the person on the other side to a crisp. He schooled his temper.

"Come in." He called, keeping his expression and tone calm and professional.

The dark walnut doors opened and a boy walked in. Instantly the tension melted away into genuine interest. The boy was young, either new or part of the summertime apprenticeship program they were trying, tall, slim, and handsome. His posture was relaxed, his tie and the top two buttons of his black dress shirt were undone, yet his almost unsettlingly vivid green eyes were observant and sharp. His hair was a mess of riotous curls, starkly ink black against his moon pale skin, which was dotted with a light spattering of freckles that were so pale Tom almost did not notice them. He was cute, but there was something about him that set Tom's instincts on alert, like they were a pair of predators in one room.

"What can I help you with?" He asked politely.

The boy chuckled. "It's more like what I can do for you." He smirked as he raised a thick stack of manilla folders tied together with a burgundy ribbon up. "These are the final signed papers regarding the triwizard tournament to be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

Tom sighed inwardly as he took the papers. Someone had the brilliant idea to reinstate the tournament to take the heat off the Ministry and Tom wanted to kill whoever was responsible for the near constant migraine he had been suffering since the whole hassle began. He gestureed for the boy to sit as he signed where he needed.

The boy sat and suddenly snorted derisively. Tom looked up. He grined sheepishly, "Sorry." He gestures to the open book, "That's just the most useless version of _Hogwarts, A history_ I've ever had the displeasure of coming across. It is ill informed, not entirely factual, and there is no room for rumors and hearsay in a textbook. Maybe it's just the Eagle in me, but textbooks are for learning, not gossip."

Interest piqued, Tom set aside the files. The boy shouldn't have been able to read anything from his desk and yet... How strange. "Given you said Eagle instead of raven, I'm guessing you're a Ravenclaw." Tom deduced calmly.

"Just finished my Sixth year." He confirmed.

Ah, a seventh year. Tom hummed thoughtfully. "I agree with your assessment, but you won't find many who agree, simply because Dumbledore is the one who presented it. People give him far too much credit just because he defeated two dark lords."

He had a moment of panic once he realized he said that last bit out loud, but the boy laughed. "Dumbledore," He stated with a flash of disgust through his vibrant eyes, "has far too much political pull for a school teacher in my opinion."

How delightful to find someone who shared his views, not to mention one who was beautiful and clever enough to see through Dumbledore's old man act. Tom decided that avoiding the boy would be best considering he already felt caught up in a web in the mere seconds he had known the boy.

"You never introduced yourself." He smiled as he went back to signing.

"No, I didn't." the boy grinned sharply after a moment of silence. He stood up and reached over to take the stack of signed folders deftly out of Tom's hands. "Goodnight Riddle."

He was gone before Tom could even formulate a response. Tom reached across the desk for the burgundy ribbon that had been left behind with a sharp smile forming on his lips. How interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry about the long wait. I lost my phone a few days after posting and had to wait for a new one. Luckily my sister bought one for chrismas, otherwise I would have had to wait until income taxes. I don't have a sim card replacement until the third, and my internet is... Well I suppose I could have none.
> 
> Also, I apologize for responding to everyone with thanks instead of real answers in the comments. I just never know how to respond, but I greatly appreciated every comment I received. 
> 
> Love and happy reading,  
> Ophelia.

It was three days later, the next time Tom saw the boy. He was in his office, three seconds from cursing Shiela in spite of seventeen years of scheming, when he walked in with a stack of papers and the anger seemed to just melt like ice in the sun. 

"Evening Riddle." The boy greeted with a soft smile, then he turned to Sheila with a sharp glare. "Hey Darcy, shouldn't you be under someone's desk instead of pestering people who gave real work to do?"

The blonde, was her name Darcy then, gave him a hateful look. "Shouldn't you be in a grave with your parents Potter?" She shot back. He was an orphan, like Tom was. Tom committed the knowledge to memory.

"Ouch." Potter responded, completely deadpan and lacking any emotion. "I'd leave if I were you. Boot is looking for you."

Oddly, the woman he could never get to leave without some threat involving someone she would never sleep with, simply let out a shrill noise and stalked out. The door slammed loudly against the frame. Tom gaped at the boy who just gave him another indulgent smile.

"Sheila Darcy," he stated with a smirk, "Keeps her job because she's sleeping with Lowell Boot in records. He makes all complaints disappear, and every day she works she sucks his cock."

Tom's eyes gleamed dangerously at the new knowledge but he filed it away. He treated Potter to a rare smile. "What did you need, Mr. Potter?" He asked, gesturing to the papers in his arms.

"Please," he snorted, "Mr. Potter was my father. Call me Harry."

"Harry." Such an ordinary name, but it felt like honey on his tongue. Like a word to be savored. His own name was just as ordinary, another thing they had in common. He wondered what other things he could learn about the mystery shrouded boy.

Harry set the stack of papers on his desk and Tom glanced down. He grimaced. "I thought I was done with the triwizard tournament paperwork." He complained, even as he started reading the contract on his desk.

Harry laughed. "Bureaucracy has no end, especially when Albus Dumbledore is involved."

Tom smiled at the boy, but his fingers clenched his quill tightly. He wanted the boy, he realized suddenly. He was intrigued and he desired to possess him, but he also desired him. In two encounters the boy had captured his attention more than anyone ever had in seven decades of life. Tom was so close to victory he could taste it, and Lucius had said a scandal could help him get ahead in the polls, but even so getting involved with a seventeen year old boy was more of a scandal than he could afford. Not to mention how thoroughly Tom was caught in his web in so little time. Harry Potter was a dangerous wildcard and he was grateful to know he'd be returning to Hogwarts in just under two weeks.

He handed the signed papers back to the intriguing boy and Harry blessed him with a smile like sunshine. "Thank you Riddle." he said.

When Harry stood to leave, he reached out and snagged his wrist. Tom wasn't sure which of the two of them was nore surprised by the action. Harry's unsettlingly green eyes bore into his, curious but unreadable, and Tom let go of his arm.

"Sorry," he said, "I'm not sure why I did that."

Harry gave him a contemplative look, but did nothing. For a few long seconds he just stared at Tom with his wide green eyes, until Tom was fighting the urge to fidgit like a chastised schoolboy, then Harry smirked as if he had figured something out.

"Bye, Riddle." he said, his voice low and silken, then he was gone and Tom was left standing there with his hands clenched at his sides, more confused than he had been when he was a teen experiencing his first crush. He couldn't figure out what it was about the boy that drew him in like a moth to the flame.

He sat back down in his chair and he noticed a piece of paper sitting on his desk that hadn't been there earlier. A chaperone slip. They weren't looking for another judge for the dreadful tournament, but they were looking for another to oversee the event, to stay on the school grounds and watch over the chosen champions and the Goblet of Fire. As much as he wanted to claim it was a perfect opportunity to get into his alma matter right under Dumbledore's crooked nose without him being able to stop Tom, he knew the real reason he wanted to sign his name had more to do with a certain green eyed teen whose very existence seemed to be his siren call, leading him to his doom. Tom fiddled with the raven feather quill, tapping his nails on his desk. The boy was a risk he couldn't afford. A temptation wearing killing curse green eyes and a soft smile with perfectly straight pearl white teeth.

Once, before his defeat, Tom overheard some of his more loyal followers arguing about obsession. Specifically, how easily he was lost to it. Tom had never given much thought to it, but perhaps they were right. He was an addict and obsession was his drug. Harry Potter was his newest obsession and it would be foolish to willingly walk into his unwitting trap. Yet...

It seemed like a waste not to at least get the mystery over with. It was almost kismet, they way the boy left that specific paper behind. It was an open door of opportunity and Tom had never passed up an opportunity of the same caliber before. Certainly the boy couldn't be that dangerous, it was only the mystery of him that left Tom wanting. On his desk sat the perfect solution to his little problem. Surely, a few months with ample opportunity to unravel the perplexing puzzle of Harry Potter would relive him of his obsession and free him from the web the teenager had formed around him.

Mind made up, Tom signed his name before he could change his decision. Then he set the paper aside to file when he could. Harry Potter, he decided, needed to become much duller, otherwise blood would stain someone's hands before the next election. He couldn't afford to waste his schemes on one boy, but maybe ge could afford to spend a little time unraveling the riddle that Harry Potter presented.

\--

Albus Dumbledore rubbed his temples with a groan. Tomorrow the students would arrive and his workload would grow to an exhausting point. It was no easy feat to run a school, to be the guardian of so many children, especially on top of his Order duties. He was working two full time jobs between making certain the students recived a good education and making certain that the new rising dark lord, the nameless leader of Oroborous, was taken down before he could cause much chaos. He was past exhausted by now. He ached down to his very bones.

The dark was attacking on two fronts. On one hand stood Tom Riddle, who had somehow managed to worm his way into the political cesspool that was the ministry and, by the time he learned the vanished dark lord was hiding in plain sight, it was far too late to convince anyone of his treachery. He was dismissed as paranoid, an old man seeing ghosts. Tom Riddle was competing for the position of Minister for Magic now, and his victory seemed immanent. Not to mention he was going to be in Hogwarts for a year to watch over the Tournament.

On the other hand, the new nameless dark lord. Certainly there was the possibility that it was actually Tom playing Voldemort and leading the armies as he played Tom Riddle and attacked the politic side of things, but the possibility was low. It was more likely a supporter, or a death eater. Perhaps Tom had ordered one of his knights to rise in power, but such an action seemed rather out of character.

Albus hadn't set out to destroy two dark lords. Grindelwald had been his responsibility, but Tom was an accident. He should have given the boy a chance, but fear had blinded him to the possibilities of the future, and soon his mistakes had borne a second dark lord. He had not defeated Voldemort because of some hidden spell or knowledge. No, he defeated him largely out of luck.

And now it was his duty to take down the newest dark lord.

Whoever it was behind the shroud, whatever their true goals, there had never been an army of this caliber. Oroborous was, at it's core, an army against inequality and the oppression of knowledge and all magical species and blood types. Calling them a dark army was not entirely accurate, for their views and goals were not evil or dark. They were better classified as a radical group, albiet one with a farther reach than most, one that aimed to destroy the ministry. The majority of the citizens of the magical realm seemed to support their cause, openly and in secret and, that, more than anything, was the reason Oroborous rose so swifty from the shadows.

Albus himself marveled at the idea of a world of freedom, where blood purity and specisism had no place, but he had a duty. Laws were not meant to be trampled. Oroborous fought to crush the world and make an almost utopian world rise from the ashes like a phoenix, and though he respected their vision, however unlikely it was to succeed, Albus was the one who would be in charge of striking them down.

Albus sighed. He'd been given a prophecy once about a boy who would defeat the dark lord, but at the time Tom was already in prison. Now though, now Tom was rising as the one most likely to win the upcoming election, and an army of darkness was rising swiftly. He wished he had listened to her, maybe he would have a better idea of the identity of the boy. All he knew was only two boys fit the words he remembered. Neville Longbottom, a Gryffindor who was only occasionally brave, and Harry Potter, a Ravenclaw at the top of his class who had all the charm of Tom Riddle without the darkness. Either one of the seventh year boys could be the one to train to defeat the rising dark lord, but which to pick? Albus sighed. Maybe, with the Triwizard tournament adding a much needed distraction, Albus could train both boys. After all, if he failed he would have to defeat this newest threat himself, and Albus wasn't sure how he managed to get out if bed most days.

The only positive of the whole mess was that, if Tom Riddle won the election, at least the new dark lord would topple him before he could do too much damage.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is insanely short, and it's been so long since last chapter. My cat died. Next chapter is going to be very long, and you finally get to see how Harry thinks though c:

The Monday before Samhain came faster than Tom expected it to, and soon he was taking a portkey to The Hogs Head to be escorted to Hogwarts. He had expected to see Dumbledore there, given how obstinate the man had been since he got the news that Tom would be assigned to watch over the tournament, so it was a shock to instead find himself face to face with the object of his most recent obsession.

"Oh, hello Harry." He greeted.

The boy with his vividly green eyes grinned. "Riddle. " He softly smiled.

"I admit I wasn't expecting to see you quite so soon." The words slipped out of Tom's mouth without his permission and he felt suddenly nervous in the wake of them.

Harry Potter laughed, a soft breathy sound like sunshine on a cloudy day. "I have a free period and I offered to come get you." He explained. " To tell the truth, I reckon Dumbledore was worried he wouldn't be polite if he was in your company alone. He seems unfond of you."

Tom couldn't help but smirk at the understatement. "A fact I am well aware of."

Someone cleared their throat and Tom looked away from Harry to see the grizzled face of Mad-eye Moody, or rather, Barty Crouch jr, one of his most loyal followers. "We should be going." The man said gruffly.

Tom didn't need to see Barty's true face to read the truth in his eyes. Confusion, wariness, apologetic respect, and teasing glee. Tom could slap himself for getting so distracted by Harry Potter's pretty face and bewitching eyes that he hadn't seen his own follower behind him. He can't believe his own foolishness, being caught off guard, half flirting with a barely legal school child.

"Of course." He said. Harry smirked, then turned to walk out and Tom gave Barty a subtle look promising pain should he attempt to question him later. "Not a word Bartemius."

The smirk looked horrible on Moody's face. " Course not boss." He said. When he started to walk away Barty grined widely. "Harry Potter huh?"

Only years of suppressing his murderous urges stopped Tom from turning around and punching or cursing Barty. "Shut up." He seethed.

"Coming?" Harry Potter called from the door, and Tom strode pass Barty with another subtle glare, cursing his recent friendliness with his followers as Barty's wiggled Moody's eyebrows suggestively. The effect was amusing and exasperating all at once.

With Harry directly next to him, Barty didn't risk his cover by talking to Tom for the rest of the walk. He walked behind them with a scowl and kept his fingers on his wand, as the real Moody would have in the presence of someone Dumbledore was so open about his dislike for. But even without Barty's teasing commentary, the walk seemed to take forever. Harry Potter was so close, close enough to touch, close enough to smell the earthy scent of gardening and the spicy cologne he wore. Tom was silent, cautious about speaking lest he get caught up in the boy's presence yet again, and Harry seemed content to walk in perfect sync with him as they made their way to the school and up to the Griffin doors of the Headmaster's office.

"This is where I leave you." Harry Potter said. He turned and curled his fingers around Tom's tie. " Bye Riddle."

While Harry walked away Tom watched the black silk slip through his fingers with wide eyes, shocked and aroused by the small but blatant act of seduction. He smiled over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.

Harry Potter, Tom thought, had a smile like the sun.

Not the sun after a cold winter, or the early morning, but like the sun during a long drought or walk through a desert. His smile was blinding, inescapable, and it left him feeling burnt and parched long after he was gone. 


End file.
